


Leather and Lace

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP.  Cross-dressing and trailer!sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leather and Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [intoapuddle](http://intoapuddle.tumblr.com/) for the inspiration and [heavenorspace](http://heavenorspace.tumblr.com) for the [art](http://heavenorspace.tumblr.com/post/44654417612/because-its-never-safe-to-write-stuff-like-this). ;)
> 
> For visual purposes, [these are the underwear](http://media.tumblr.com/9e9cd833d5bff02f3cd48925503a2dc7/tumblr_inline_mj7nlviBBC1qz4rgp.jpg) and [the boots](http://media.tumblr.com/aec0c6967064c5c26c5bb57baab23af0/tumblr_inline_mj7nmb2TRL1qz4rgp.jpg) that Chris wears.

There are days when Kurt's outfits make Chris want to turn around, walk back into his trailer, lock the door, and cry. For real. But there are also some that he likes and, eventually, some that he loves--what he really comes to appreciate in a non-ironic way, though, are boots. He'd never really considered clothing much at all--he loves costumes, but with costumes there's an expectation of creativity and surprise that he just can't muster up for every day clothing--before Glee, and now he kind of has it thrown in his face every day.

But he likes the boots. Every time that Kurt has an outfit picked out that includes boots he's excited. There's just something about all that smooth leather that makes him walk straighter. He feels taller, and older, and cooler, and okay--feel free to make fun of him, he just likes them.

Another wardrobe related thing that consistently embarrasses the hell out of him is his underwear. He's responsible for that, of course, since it's not as if Kurt strips down and needs to be wardrobe checked for that. This doesn't stop the costume folks from giggling about the Target-bought underwear that he thoughtlessly wears every day. His mom still buys him underwear and it never occurred to him to give a crap about that, and the teasing is good natured, so it doesn't really bother him.

But when he has his first onset birthday he isn't surprised when he gets a shopping bag full of designer men's underwear from the wardrobe team.

He gets a little drunk and eats a lot of cake and half the crew ends up pawing through the bag, and he's pretty sure that Darren wears a pair on his head for a while. It all goes fuzzy some time there in the middle, because he is really, really disgustingly drunk.

He forgets about the bag entirely until weeks later when he spills something on himself and has to change in his trailer between takes. He spots the bag tucked away in a corner, covered with weeks of randomly stacked bits and bobs. He shrugs, thinking, why not? and wrangles a pair out of the pile.

They're nice, he guesses, but then he knows absolutely nothing about underwear. They fit well. They're black. They're tighter than anything he has ever worn, but he guesses maybe that's okay? Either way, they're nice clean underwear and he isn't about to turn down free stuff.

He goes through the bag as the week goes by, lazy about doing laundry as he always is, and eventually he's down to just one pair. He takes them out of the bag one morning and realizes that they're not--exactly like the others. It must be a mistake. They're boy shorts, but they're a women's cut, with a faint edging of lace around the legs. He's not sure whether it's part of a joke or an accident that they ended up in there, but no one has teased him so he's going to assume the latter.

He generally has no clue about women's anything, and he certainly has no interest in cross-dressing, but--

For just a moment he thinks, why not? They aren't bikini underwear or a thong or something. In fact, they'd probably fit almost like the rest of the underwear that he's been wearing all week (he's kind of skinny). Almost.

He puts them on. They're not silky, just very soft, and the way they fall around his package is--weird. Distended, because they aren't cut for a man at the front. The legs ride up because of that, making the lace cutting too high, and maybe half an inch of butt cheek doesn't fit into the curve of the leg holes. He looks--weird.

You can hardly see the lace but for where his pale skin shines through the pattern. He turns in front of the mirror in his trailer, feeling stupid, and--kind of turned on. He looks good, which is something that he almost never thinks about himself. He's always felt that he kind of resembles cooked noodles, but the way that the underwear clings and shapes his ass, the way they fall too low and pinch too tight across his penis--

It feels sort of good, too?

He goes to work in them that day and is blushing and twitchy all afternoon. When they break for lunch he goes back to his trailer for a nap, as he often does, but this time his switches off the lights and locks the door. Club Chris is officially closed for the afternoon.

He naps fitfully on the sofa in his trailer, and wakes up with a hard-on pinned between him and the cushions.

He's not really surprised, though he does force himself to wait a few minutes before reaching down and pushing a hand against himself. He feels super trashy--he knows that people hook up in the trailers all the time on set and he has always been judgmental about that but this isn't that, exactly, right?

It just feels so good; the smooth material, the way that it's a little too tight, the way that the lace scratches the bottom of his cheeks and pulls at his leg hair. He squeezes himself slowly through the material, and before he even considers pushing his pants and the underwear off he bucks and comes, soaking them. A huge wet patch crawls stickily across the front of his pants and he sits up, red-faced and gasping, and whips them off, throwing them in the laundry bag he has in the corner of the trailer.

Then he panics and retrieves the underwear, tucking them in a zip lock into his messenger bag to take home and wash himself. God, what if someone had noticed? What if his mom had offered to do his laundry and...? 

He forgets about them until a week later when he bothers to wash them, and then there they are again in his weekly rotation.

One day he comes back to grab a can of Diet Coke wearing his costume--boots today, yay--and it hits him all at once, the idea of combining the two. The next time he actually has a break he steals a pair of Kurt's boots and comes back to the trailer, sliding the boy shorts on and then the boots. He laces them up carefully, then sits on the sofa in his trailer, staring at himself in the mirror. 

He should feel ridiculous. But he feels sexy, for maybe the first time in ever. He sprawls out on the sofa on his stomach, letting his back arch. His ass rising makes the material go tight, and it cinches up and slides between his cheeks; his penis going hard stretches the material even farther, the shape of it and his balls swelling out of the sides of the underwear.

His face is fire engine red and he looks--sort of crazy. 

And of course at that very moment Darren comes bumbling into his trailer--which he forgot to lock--shouting something about the Thundercats. Chris has no idea why the Thundercats are relevant today. He only knows that Darren is there, where Darren should not be.

"Okay man, Panthro; bi-curious or _bi-curious_?" Darren stops in the doorway, jaw dropping. "Oh fuck. Oh shit. Okay. Leaving." And the door slams.

Chris literally falls off the sofa onto the floor, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification. He knows perfectly well that Darren is still outside.

"Darren," he calls, hating his life. "Darren."

"He totally had a thing for Lion-O," Darren says defensively, and it sounds as if he's pouting. "I read about it on the Internet."

"Darren." He stands, and shrugs on a terrycloth robe. "Get your ass in here."

Darren's face appears between the door and its frame--his hair is slicked back in Blaine's style and he's wearing Blaine's clothes but he has his own jacket on over the costume. He can't quite look Chris in the face.

"I was--trying out something," Chris says, dumbly.

"Hey uh, it's cool. I should've knocked, I just--we usually do lunch, so." They make eye contact, and Darren's faces goes red. He's not embarrassed; Darren doesn't embarrass easily. He's just--obviously shocked.

"The entire set is going to know by dinner, aren't they," Chris murmurs weakly.

Darren laughs. "Oh fuck, no, look, it's cool. They put us in so many weird outfits, man, it's only natural to--try shit out, you know?" He nods. "It's good to experiment, it's always--healthy."

And all Chris can think is, please go away I want to cry, which Darren kind of picks up on, he guesses, because he goes not long after.

 

*

 

The next time everyone gets together and drinks Darren ends up in his lap, as usual (it seems to happen after four drinks--Chris hasn't figured out the math but he thinks four it the magic number when Darren hits happy drunk), and he just kind of relaxes and carries on conversations with other people as Darren cuddles him and licks him and other various adorable things.

Their comfort level is ridiculously high, which is weird; Chris normally can't stand having his personal space invaded, but with Darren it had never been like that. And increasingly he's comfortable with having people close in general. He can't decide whether this has anything to do with Darren or you know, having actual friends that care about him for the first time in his life, but either way--he's happy. He's the happiest he's ever been, working on Glee.

He kisses Darren's hair. "Hello drunkface," he says, fondly.

"Hello," Darren says, very drunk and very happy. He squashes his face against Chris' ear. "Hey hey, so pretty. Hey. Can I--you looked really pretty the other day in your trailer. I didn't say because--things--but. I wanted to because you looked good, you know, and you should feel good, I mean like, all the time, Chris--you looked so good."

Chris fidgets uncomfortably. But Darren is drunk; what's the harm? 

"Um, thanks," he replies, squashing the desire to change the topic or run away and hide under a table. He sucks on his drink, letting the alcohol calm his nerves. "I've never done anything like that before."

"If you do it again, I wanna see," Darren slurs, and Chris tenses.

"Uh."

"Kay?"

"Um." He has no idea why he says okay, but he does, and Darren pets him drunkenly.

That should be that, but a week later he's re-tying up his boots in his trailer, ready to go back to work, when Darren texts him, _dressing up?_

He glances down at his boots. He is wearing the boy shorts--now one of three similar pairs he has--and so he texts back, _have been since this morning._

 _excelent_ , Darren texts back, and his face goes hot.

He had really counted on Darren forgetting, but now--

It's a long afternoon.

Darren comes into his trailer not long after they finish.

"I was going to uh, shower," Chris says, lamely.

_Since apparently we're going to be having kinky cross-dressing relations. My life is so normal._

"Don't bother," Darren replies, locking the door and standing there staring at him. 

"This is weird," Chris replies. "Is this--just because it's girls underwear, I mean...?"

Darren's eyes flash. "No. It's because it's you." He swallows. "Sorry, I'm absolute shit at this and I've never--with a guy. Am I totally creeping you out?"

Chris feels an uncharacteristic surge of confidence and shrugs out of his t-shirt. He manages to wriggle out of his pants without taking the boots off, and then he stands there in the underwear and boots, eyes on Darren's.

"Turn around?" Darren asks, eyes glazing over.

Chris does a little turn, then looks back over his shoulder at Darren. He's already changed, so it's just the usual dorky Darren in cargo shorts and a worn t-shirt and sunglasses, but he's staring at Chris in a way that Chris has never been stared at before.

And Chris likes it.

"Okay, um," Darren says, taking a step towards him. "I have no idea what I'm doing and I think it should be something sweet but really I just kind of want to eat your fucking face right now, is that okay?"

"Yes," Chris squeaks, and Darren grabs him and he grabs Darren and there's a tongue in his mouth. Two hands slide down his back and wrap around the softness of the underwear and haul his hips forward. He makes a noise that roughly translates to "gnaah" as Darren sloppily kisses him down onto the sofa and crawls on top of him.

"Jesus, the way you look in these fucking things," Darren gasps, running his fingers along the bumpy laces that run down the front of Chris' boots. His legs are folded up around Darren's torso and the underwear are tight across his half-full erection and Darren is looking at him like he's food. "Can I?" Darren asks, splaying his open palm across Chris' inner thigh.

"Yeah, um--yes."

He cups Chris through the boy shorts, hissing in a sharp breath when Chris pulses against his palm and arches up into the touch. "Wanna make you come in them," Darren says, and they're kissing again only this time Darren's hand is fisting him through the underwear and--

They're kissing, why isn't that weird?

Kissing Blaine is not kissing Darren, and this should be weird but it's not.

Darren is kind of a spaz with the kissing, but Chris is beyond caring right now, what with being pressed down into the sofa, his legs around Darren's waist, and Darren's hand jerking him off through a pair of boy shorts that have lace at the hem. He stares, shaking and so fucking close to that edge, at the chunky black heels on his boots through the frame of Darren's hair and--he clenches up and grabs Darren's waist and comes, soaking the front of the underwear.

"Oh, wow," Darren breathes.

"Oh my god," Chris gasps in reply, shaking and gasping for breath. He thinks he's finally realized what his hips are for.

And then Darren's jerking open his own fly and slamming their hips together and kissing Chris again. "Can't even," he breathes out, "fuck, can't wait." 

"So don't," Chris sighs, high-pitched and just a little lispy. He can't help it; he's certainly not thinking about that right now.

Darren kind of holds him and humps against him and then--gives this little stuttery gasping sob and Chris clamps his legs tightly around Darren's waist and Darren comes in his pants, humping Chris' spent cock and come-covered underwear.

Darren's phone buzzes loudly and he curses and wrestles it out of his jeans pocket.

Chris grabs the phone. 

It's one of Ryan's PA's and the text simply reads, _cut that shit out before ry sets the dogs on you_ , and Chris laughs so hard that he tumbles them both to the floor of the trailer.


End file.
